One Bottle of Tequila
by nolongeractivedfgdfgd
Summary: Assuming Sam got Dean out of his deal, the boys celebrate with a bottle of tequila. After a few shots too many, a few drunken ramblings and a hillarious conversation lead up to what Sam was really going through the whole past year.


_Well, what can I say. I'm home, have nothing to do, and this came out of it. This story takes place, assuming that Sam got Dean out of his deal and nothing real drastic happened. How he did it is up to your imagination seeing as I never really got that far. Here's the aftermath. _

_In my world there are three stages of drunken Winchesters. The first is silly, the second is angry, the third is sad. Tell me how you like it._

"That's a big bottle of tequila, Sammy," Dean observed as his brother walked through the door, a bag in on hand, a bottle the other, a huge grin on his face, "What's going on?" Dean sat cross legged on his bed, his back resting against the headboard and one eye cracked open as he'd been falling into an uncomfortable sleep.

Sam's grin widened as he set the bottle on the table, took out a couple shotglasses from the bag. "Me and you," Sam began as he filled both the shot glasses, "Are celebrating." Handing a glass to Dean and keeping one for himself, he sat down on the bed opposite Dean's, Sam mimicked his brother's demeanor, sitting indian style as well

Dean's own lips curled up into a confused smile as he accepted his drink, "What are we celebrating?"

Sam couldn't seem to keep the smile off of his face as he spoke. "What are we celebrating? Hmm, let's see. Smart ass remarks, half-baked plans that could get us both killed, an ongoing love affair with a vehicle, that cocky smirk that always shows up whenever-"

"I'm lost, Sammy," Dean interrupted, holding his hand up to stop his brother's list.

"_You_," Sam said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "We're celebrating you."

Sam almost burst out laughing at the myriad of expressions Dean's face went through. He first looked confused, then touched, then just confused again. Dean opened his mouth to say something and Sam raised an eyebrow expectantly. Shutting his mouth once more, Dean finally settled on, "Why?"

"Knew you'd ask that," Sam said with an eyeroll, "Dude, it's been a year and one day. It has been one year and one day since you made the deal with that crossroads bitch to bring me back to life. I went through a year of wondering what was gonna happen, what I was supposed to do when you were gone. You went through a year of terror knowing you were going to hell- Don't give me that look, you _know_ you were scared. But you're alive. We can stop worrying. And now I'm celebrating because I can't think of anything that's worth celebrating more."

Dean didn't look confused anymore. Sam had expected some snide remark, some lame joke about him being a girl, but Dean just raised his glass and Sam did the same. "Here's to you," Sam said as the glasses clinked.

"Here's to me," Dean said with a shake of his head, as they both downed the first shot.

(Eight shots later)

"If you were a girl wouldja date me?"

The liquid that was in Sam's mouth shot back out as Sam burst into fits of laughter.

"Which one of you?" Sam asked through his blurred vision as two Dean's stared back at him. Once he calmed himself down, he reached for another drink and looked at his brother who was holding the tequila bottle away from him. Sam's face set into a pout.

"Can't have t'quila til you anshwer my question," Dean slurred, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

"Anshwer? You're drunk," Sam pointed out as he reached for the bottle again, this time losing his balance and almost falling into Dean.

"Sho are you," Dean replied as he honest to God giggled which made Sam start cracking up as he nodded his head in confirmation, and Dean asked the question again.

Sam shook his head with a solid, "Noooope," Dean looked offended for a minute before crossing his arms. "Why not?"

"Cause you don't take women sheriously enough," Sam stopped talking and frowned, "Sheriously. SHERIOUSLY. Damn. Now I'm doin' it."

Dean giggled again, "You said doin' it."

Sam's face lit up into a goofy grin as he laughed, "Heh, I did." Sam reached for the bottle again and this time grabbed it out of Dean's hands. He took a drink right from the bottle and Dean made a disgusted face.

"Dude germs," Dean said as Sam rolled his eyes.

"You take my food all the time," he countered.

"Yeah but- okay," Dean replied as he grabbed the bottle back and took a swig himself as he grinned, feeling all tingly and warm.

"What about me?" Sam asked after a couple minutes of silence.

Dean looked at him with a funny expression before hiccuping, "What about you?"

"If you were a girl, would you date me?" Sam asked as he made another grab for the tequila bottle and held it out of Dean's reach, the same way Dean had moment before.

"Nuh uh," Dean said shaking his head with a confidence.

"Wha'?! Why?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Cause I'd know you weren't really a guy."

"Jerk," Sam scoffed as he drank some more.

"Bish."

Sam laughed again, his drunken mind finding it hillarious how 'bitch' suddenly rhymed with 'fish'. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he hadn't been this wasted in a very long time... Right now he was having too good of time to care. Sam went to take another swig of tequila when Dean made a grab for it, causing Sam to choke on the contents already in his mouth.

Shooting a glare Dean's way, Sam pulled the bottle back closer to his chest and he took another drink, the bottle almost empty.

"You're drinkin' it all!" Dean complained as he launched himself over to the other bed and tried to wrestle the bottle from his brother's hands.

"Ge- off me!" Sam slurred as bits of tequila spilled on to the bed. Dean finally managed to get a good grip on the bottle, that's when Sam wrenched it back, losing his own grip, and sent the bottle flying into the opposite wall. The liquid dripped off the wall and onto the carpet, both brothers looking forlorn.

"You broke it, you idiot," Dean hissed, the dissapointment evident on his face.

Sam stayed silent for a second, his concentration solely on the broken pieces to the bottle that littered the floor. The bottle was broken, but most importantly, the contents on the inside wasted and Sam felt his eyes welling up with tears.

Dean noticed and frowned a bit. "Wassa matter with you?" Sam didn't respond, his eyes unblinking and his face set into a look of pure misery. "Sham? Whaisit?"

"That coulda been you," Sam whispered, his eyes locked on the bottle, "I almost broke you, too. The outside broken, the inside wasted... It coulda been you."

Dean knew that somewhere in there, Sam was making a comparison, but right now all his mind comprehended was the fact that Sam was about to cry over a broken tequila bottle and he shrugged. "Is' jus' a bottle, Shammy."

"Why'd you do it, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly, shoving his brother off the bed. Dean tumbled off the end of the bed and landed at the bottom with a thump.

Dean stood up, wavering as he looked at Sam angrily, "I didn't do it, you broke the freakin' bottle!"

"But you wasted the inside!" Sam yelled, grabbing the front of the older Winchester's shirt and shoving him against the wall, "My body may have been broken but you sold your soul! How could you? Why would you do that, you stupid, fucking idiot!"

Dean was confused, but he didn't like the way that everytime Sam emphasized a point he rammed his back harder into the wall and Dean shoved his younger brother back and away from him.

"I'm not going to hell!" Dean shouted, "We found a way out of the deal."

Sam came back at him, anger clear on his usually calm features, "But you still did it. You were gonna leave me alone, you were gonna suffer in hell, just so I could stay alive in this shit hole of a world!" Sam took a swing and caught Dean on the side of his cheek.

Dean staggered back, still unsteady on his feet and he caught Sam's fist before the younger man punched him again. "Stop it," Dean said in a voice mimicking the one John used to use on his boys when he wanted them to calm down, whether it be them fighting with eachother, or fighting for eachother.

Sam used his other fist to take another swing at Dean and Dean caught that hand, too. The boys struggled against eachother for a second, but it was obvious that Dean had the advantage and wasn't planning on letting go of Sam's fist anytime soon. Sam looked murderously angry, and then all at once his face crumpled and he looked distraught. The last year's worth of worry, of frustation and terror, and of all those feelings that he'd been holding inside were bubbling to the surface, coming out in tidal waves.

"I hated you," Sam whispered brokenly as a tear made its way down his face.

"No you didn't," Dean replied, letting go of both of Sam's fists.

"I wanted to."

"I know." Both boys slumped to the floor and Sam looked back to his brother as one more tear fell down his face.

"I don't hate you," Sam said as he promptly passed out on the carpet.

"I know that, too," Dean replied, and he was soon to follow his little brother's previous action.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A light streaming through the window was the first thing Dean noticed when he woke up. He wanted to personally douse the sun in water, his head hurt so bad.

He noticed that they were both laying awkwardly on the dirty, motel carpet and he slapped his sleeping brother's face.

"Wake up, Sam," Dean whispered and Sam groaned.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam whispered back as he snuggled into the carpet a little more. Dean rolled his eyes and slapped his brother in the head.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam snapped, shooting up, which was a mistake as his stomach lurched in protest.

"Get off the floor," Dean said, as he pulled himself onto a bed and Sam did the same, "And for god's sake stop yelling."

"I wasn't yelling," Sam said.

"Oh, then stop talking," Dean ammended and Sam gave an 'mmkay,' as he buried his head into a pillow.

Both boys were slowly but surely recalling the events from last night; the embarassing, silly, emotionally shattering...

"What'd we talk about last night?" Sam asked, even though he already knew. Part of him was hoping he'd dreamed some of it.

Dean recalled most of it as well and he turned to face Sam who unburied his head and did the same. Nope, they were so not going there. "Cars," Dean replied.

Sam nodded his head, "And... guns."

"And chicks."

"And beer."

"And... heavy machinery."

"Heavy machinery?" Sam repeated with a raised brow and Dean shrugged with a small gridn.

"Nothing else?" Sam prompted and Dean shook his head.

Sam nodded slightly, before turning back over, "Kay, that's what I thought."

_Okay, I don't know what prompted this, I'm on like three different medicines so I'm sorry if it sucked. But it's been rolling around in my head for a while. I love writing Drunk Winchesters and I thought I'd just do it spur of the moment. Thanks so much for reading, please tell me how you like it!_

_Love,_

_SLX_


End file.
